by James Webb
(Once again, I wrote a devotion for our church’s week of prayer. Once again I’m using it as my blog post for this week.)
“Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.” (John 17:24)
This morning the streets of Canterbury, in the early wind and rain, are almost deserted. It makes a nice change after the Christmas excess. Read more
Last week, I went shopping for orange juice. In Tesco’s they had a special offer, which I assumed had something to do with the fact that the four cartons of juice in front of me all had ‘Happy Christmas!’ written on them. The use-by date was the end of January. That was fine; we’d get it drunk by then. As I picked up the juice I noticed that behind it were all the newer, non-festive cartons. They were still on offer, but these ones had a use-by date for the end of February. Read more
“Dad,” said the child, “why is it called ‘Black Friday’?”
Dad didn’t even look up from his computer.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, why is today called ‘Black Friday’?”
“I don’t know,” said Dad. “I suppose I could Google it.”
“It’s just that, well, ‘Black Friday’ makes it sound like a scary or sad or bad thing,” said the child.
“Hmmmm…” said Dad, clicking on yet another banner that screamed BLACK FRIDAY SALE!!!!
“And it’s not, is it, Dad?”
“No,” said Dad, “it most certainly isn’t scary or sad or bad. It’s fantastic.”
“Can we call it something else then, Dad? Something better?”
Dad stopped his browsing for a moment to scratch his chin.
“What, you mean something like ‘Not Bad Friday’?”
“Something like that, but better,” said the child.
Suddenly inspiration struck.
“Hey! How about ‘Good Friday’, Dad? Could we call it ‘Good Friday’?”
Dad thought for a second. He couldn’t think of a reason why not.
“Yes,OK. That seems like a much better name,” he said, clicking on the button labelled ‘BUY IT NOW’. “It certainly is a Good Friday! I’ve just got a great price on this camera!”
And that is how the tradition of Good Friday began.
Meanwhile, on an insignificant hill somewhere, a man died alone and in agony and no-one cared.
